When I first moved into Chez Mews Ollie and Sam were the resident cats.  You know that they’re not around anymore so I’ve been an only cat since January last year.  I wouldn’t say I was lonely because Mum is around 99.9% of the time and we hang out together.  But just recently there have been some subtle changes and some not so subtle changes and I’m not sure it’s for the good of cat-kind.

First: George the Rotund

He’s been virtually living here for several weeks now and always complains when Mum picks him up to put him outside.  ‘Go home, George’, she says so he comes back through the cat flap. 

‘This IS my home now,’ he says, settling his rather well-endowed belly on the dining room table.

Mum perseveres and puts him outside again. Sometimes he just sits on the decking with a resigned look on his face, but sometimes he actually disappears for an hour or two.  We hope that he’s gone back to his ‘proper’ home and that he’ll remember they all love and miss him and he’ll want to stay with them rather than taking up room on the table, the desk in Mum’s office, and anywhere he decides to lay.

But after an hour or two, sometimes a bit longer, he’ll suddenly appear through the cat flap and rush up to Mum like he hasn’t seen her in months.

We’ve resolved the peeing everywhere (but especially in MY boxes) problem as well.  Mum wondered if he’d use a litter tray instead of the bath, the mat at the front door and my toy box.  She set it all up with some nice litter and he went straight into it and did the stinkiest poo he could muster.  With a big smile on his face he nimbly leapt on the chair and back onto the dining table, while poor Mum – trying not to breathe in – got a tissue and the pooper-scooper and hoicked it out and threw it down the toilet!  It was all too much for me to deal with so I took the opportunity to check out the garden.

Which brings me to the Decking Dudes:

Clive has a perfectly good home next door and most of the time – especially when the weather is bad – he stays in his own house but comes to ours for meal times! He isn’t the problem.

Sooty is the problem.  Mum asked him what his name was and he told her.  Eric. She called him Eric and he answered straight away so I don’t call him Sooty anymore I call him Eric, too. Throughout the winter Eric has resided in the little cat kennel which is right outside the backdoor.  Using his Jedi powers he can tell when Mum is in the kitchen and he starts meowing and chirruping. So she brings him a bowl of food and puts it down on the decking. If Clive is there, he also gets a bowl of food, too. Mum is always fair, it has to be said.

Eric in my bedBut one night after George, Mum and I had been watching the television, and she switched it off and said: ‘right boys, time for dinner and bed,’ we all went out into the kitchen and there, large as life in MY bed was Eric – stretched out like a Greek god reclining on a chaise while nubile slaves danced for him! (If you’re wondering how I know about such things Mum and I watch lots of history programmes together!)   

I was INCENSED, I can tell you.  He’s done it several times since then AND what’s more, he even goes UPSTAIRS!  I don’t know if he’s casing the joint to see if it’s worth his while moving in or whether he’ll remain in the West Wing (as Mum now refers to the cat kennel!) and he’ll take his meals indoors with George and I.

I’m all for helping those in need but I do draw the line at them MOVING IN to MY house with MY mum expected to divide her time three ways.  There’s only so much a cat can stand in his own house! 

A Cats Purr

"Cats make one of the most satisfying sounds in the world: they purr ...

A purring cat is a form of high praise, like a gold star on a test paper. It is reinforcement of something we would all like to believe about ourselves - that we are nice."

Roger A Caras